Providence
by Bagel
Summary: Angel's newest damsel-in-distress just might end up saving him!


ANGEL fic

Disclaimer: I own Angel every Tuesday and Friday from 4-10 pm. Otherwise, I own not a thing.

Dedication: To Maye and Heater…great friends who deserve more than just a dedication, but I'm poor. And also very far away. You guys are the greatest!

Author's notes: This story takes place during the late summer following the events of Season One. Anything that happened in the series happened as far as this fic is concerned. Things in '…' are thoughts.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Los Angeles. The city of Angels. Or, depending on how one looked at it, the city with an Angel. Its glittering lights and lurking nightlife offered up much to its inhabitants: dreams, success, disappointment, and more than its fair share of death. One never knew what to expect amongst the cold, towering buildings and glittering streets paved with broken promises. 

But that's not really the point, is it? Of course not. The point of all the chaos and confusion and hard city life was simply to survive. And maybe, if one was lucky, to find their destiny. Not always an easy thing.

~*~

"Go to Hell." 

In the fading daylight, no one paid much attention to the bickering couple standing in the doorway of "Bernie's Baked Goods". If you could call them a couple, which would be a stretch. The boy hand one hand in his pocket, and used the other one to prop himself up on the side of the building, inches from the girl's face. The speaker, his female companion, stood straight and defiant, arms crossed over her chest. 

"You know, with a demeanor like that, I'm thinking I see "Wal-mart greeter' in your future job description." He leered at her, leaning in closer and giving the appearance to a stray passerby of a couple taking a little 'downtime' on a street corner. 

She attempted to brush past him as she spat out, "Go home Ryne. What would your mother think, out so late? I wouldn't want you getting _caged_ again."

Ryne's arm shot out instantly, wrapping tightly around her throat and slamming her against the door to the shop. He watched in disinterest as the 'We're Closed' sign dropped from the nearby window and onto the concrete near his feet as a result of his actions. "Watch what you say, Alannah. I doubt _your_ mother would like it very much if her only daughter didn't come home tonight."

She attempted a laugh, but the pressure of his grip against her windpipe caused the sound to die in her throat. "Let me go, asshole," she wheezed, bringing both hands up to claw at his arm in an attempt to free her airway.

"I don't know," he mused, "I think I kind of like this little predicament. It offers up many possibilities, don't you think?" Responding to his words, Ryne removed the hand still in his pocket and wrapped it tightly around her waist. He moved in closer, taking his other hand from her throat and placing it on her upper thigh. "In fact, why don't we realize one of those fantasies I know you always have about me? I've got plenty of ti-…"

A sudden burst of immense pain choked off his words. Alannah's knee had found its target. Ryne crumpled to the floor, unable to breathe. Not wasting time to admire her accomplishment, she gracefully stepped over his inert form and out under the lamplight. "When are you ever going to learn, _buachaillín_?" she queried as if pitying him. Stepping closer, she pointed to the sign lying next to him on the pavement, "When it comes to you and your boys…. we're closed."

Her only answer as she walked away was Ryne, growling softly in rage.

~*~

Cordelia Chase perched on the edge of her secretarial desk painting her fingernails a nice shade of baby blue. Her associate, Wesley Wyndham-Price, sat nearby in the chair behind the desk, reading the morning paper. 

"Cordelia!" 

The annoyed remark uttered by their boss from the room below startled the person in question, who promptly spilled the contents of the nail polish onto the paper Wesley was reading. The former watcher shot her an irritated look, which she responded to by offering up her most winning "oops!" smile. 

"Cor_delia_!" the voice came again, closer this time.

"Wesley!" she hissed, drawing his gaze away from the business section, which had been spared the 'bluing', "I'm _not_ here!" 

"Cordelia…"he began, then stopped abruptly as they heard something, or rather, someone stomping up the stairs from the apartment below. "Cordelia," he repeated quietly, "What did you do?"

"Me?!" she squeaked, "What makes you think that _I_…." 

He simply pointed a finger toward the corridor where the stairs were located, as if to say "that's what".

"Oh, alright," she huffed, inching toward the doorway, "I kinda sorta…well… turffndngelsclghfthswhbleefgh."

"You what?" Wesley responded confusedly, shaking his head once, "Whatever you did, I really suggest that you...."

"Not now, Wesley, I gotta fly." She grabbed her bag and shuffled hurriedly toward the door, sandals clacking loudly with every step. She'd only gotten one foot out into the hallway before Angel appeared in the doorway.

"Don't…even think about it," He warned. "I can and will come after you. I could hear those sandals of yours from downstairs."

She whirled on her heel and leaned against the doorframe, offering up yet another patented smile. "Angel! Imagine seeing you up so early! Can I get you some coffee?"

"It's 8:00, I'm not thirsty, and why have you been messing with my laundry?" he responded.

"Your laundry?"

"Yes Cordelia, my laundry. If I remember correctly, you were going to audition for a bleach commercial this week." Angel tossed out, gliding over toward the coffee machine. 

"Oh, yeah. That went really well, actually. They said they'd call. Say, aren't you going out tonight? You know, not to have any actual fun, of course…god forbid _that_ should happen, but to save people and stuff?"

"That was the item on the agenda…unfortunately…" He said nothing more, using the visual he'd brought upstairs with him to tell the rest of the story. 

Angel's black shirt was polka-dotted with blotches of white. He unfolded another black item, a pair of slacks, which were decorated in a similar fashion. He then left the room briefly, and returned with a large basket full of dark-colored clothing. Every single item was similarly affected. 

She offered him a tentative laugh, "Ahem…bleach. Accident….sorry." 

Wesley snorted with laughter at that. It was a dignified, British snort, of course, but it still earned him an icy stare from the vampire. He swallowed once and wisely busied himself cleaning the imaginary mess around the computer. 

Angel glared at them for a moment longer, obviously realizing that he was going to get nowhere. Then he turned on his heel and walked out the door into the night, clad in the only clothes unaffected by Cordelia's experiment: a pair of extremely faded blue jeans and a bright red shirt; a gag gift from the late Doyle. 

They watched him go, wincing slightly at the slam of the door. After exchanging a look of guarded relief with Wesley, Cordelia dug into her purse, pulled out a nail file, and hopped back onto the table. Busy filing, she commented offhandedly, "If you ask me, I improved his wardrobe. Can you say 'depressing black fixation'?"

~*~ 

Nearly an hour had passed since her encounter with Ryne, and darkness had once again claimed the city streets. Alannah sauntered along 4th avenue, hands buried deep in the pockets of her blue pea coat. There was no doubt in her mind that Ryne was looking for her. He'd probably be bringing along the rest of the Five as well. 

"Fun, fun, fun." She muttered, veering left into an alleyway and further into the darkness. 

Today had royally sucked. Ryne up to his old tricks was only part of the problem. The day she let him touch her was the day her mother stopped mourning her father, dead nearly six months now.

'In other words, when pigs fly.' She thought to herself, kicking halfheartedly at an empty beer bottle left by some poor hapless nightwalker. Not that she was afraid, of course. Ryne may be a horny bastard, but he knew what would happen should he go too far. 

'Of course,' she sighed, 'that's never stopped him before.' Ryne had chosen that precise moment to invade the alleyway (as well as her thoughts)in which she was taking solace, followed closely by four shapes, two decidedly male and the other two female. The Five. They sauntered up the alley slowly, though their intent was clear. Alannah gave them the once-over, trying to appear aloof and disinterested. 

They paused a few feet from her, packed together as a unit. Ryne stepped forward, toeing the invisible line drawn between them, and offered up a sneer that twisted his handsome face in anger. 

"So, _cailin_, we meet again. And so soon. In a big city like this, who ever would have guessed?"

"Stop your little witty monologue, Ryne," she threw back, "You brought your entourage with you, which means jack to me. What, are they gonna watch, huh? Cheer you on in your conquest?"

"Don't be stupid, Alannah. They're just here for some…moral support. It seems you need a little convincing is all." 

She gave the familiar group a hard second look. Ryne's second-in-command, Aiden, countered her gaze fiercely, subtly cracking his knuckles against his palm. Maura and Adrienne, former friends of hers, looked on coyly with small smiles that reflected their superior attitudes. Alannah looked hardest at the boy standing at the rear of the pack. Phelan, her younger, weaker cousin, stood awkwardly beside Aiden, eyes shifting back and forth. He was clearly uncomfortable with the impending confrontation, reflecting his normal sensitive attitude. Unfortunately, he was also desperate to be accepted; so desperate that he was willing to turn against his own kin.

She snorted softly upon finishing her inspection. "Oh, I don't need much convincing to realize that you're a sorry excuse for a boy, much less a man."

Ryne's nostrils flared at the insult, hands clenching into fists at his sides. "You're asking for it, Alannah. I came here to deliver a verbal warning to you regarding your attitude, but now…I'm thinking a demonstration is in order."

Her eyes gleamed in response, body tensing in anticipation. "Ooooh, such words. However, so far, all I'm hearing is talk. Words are weak, _buachaillín. _Where's the action?"

"Right here." He lunged forward, baring his teeth at her. The sounds of hooting, thrashing, and raining blows filled the alley, spilling out into the still summer air.

~*~

Angel strode quickly down the road, footsteps pounding in pursuit of a new lead. Something was going to go down tonight at Club Fandango down on 6th avenue. Something with sharp, pointy teeth and an allergy to sunlight. It wasn't a large job: couple of stakes and a decapitation or two should finish it without too much fuss. That was why he hadn't bothered Cordelia or Wesley with the news. Well, that, and the fact that he was still a bit…miffed.

'I _cannot_ believe I went out like this. I look ridiculous.' Angel swore to himself, pulling at his brightly colored shirt and trying to subdue the irritation rising within him regarding his predicament. 'But," he thought to himself as he neared the club, 'nothing a bit of vampire violence won't fix.'

He paused as he approached 4th avenue, senses going on alert. A stake appeared in his hand, courtesy of the storage unit he'd placed inside his sleeve before he'd gone out. Smiling grimly to himself, Angel walked stealthily toward the source of the disturbance. He kept his game face in check, not wanted to arouse alarm until he was sure of what he was dealing with.

The closer he got to the alleyway, the more of the conflict he was able to pick up.

"Ryne! Watch out behind you!" The voice was decidedly feminine, high-pitched out of fear.

"Alannah, you stupid bitch, why don't you just give up? You know you're gonna lose." Came another voice, this time male.

Angel quickened his pace, feeling his coat for his backup weapon, a long silver machete. He slowed when he was within a few feet of the opening, proceeding cautiously so as not to arouse attention. He cursed quietly as his not-so-well-placed foot hit a glass bottle, sending it rolling down the street. The shouting from the alley ceased immediately. He heard growling and the shuffling of feet as whoever had been engaged in the conflict hurried to flee the scene.

'Damn' he thought to himself, entering the alley in hopes of catching them taking off. 

Angel's hope was short-lived. He came face-to-face with an empty space, showing nothing of who or what had been there. He looked around once or twice before the coppery scent of freshly spilled blood caught his attention. There had definitely been a fight, he noted, bending to the pavement and staining his fingertips red with blood. He stood slowly, his examination finished, attempting to locate the source of the substance. Five minutes of searching open trash cans and large empty boxes yielded nothing. He finally decided the injured must have left of their own accord, and started on the path he'd just came from, toward Club Fandango. That's when he heard it. 

Something was whining, a high-pitched, pitiful sound that his sensitive ears picked up clearly. He followed the noise, ripe with pain, until he found its cause. On the pavement, panting heavily and bleeding from the side, lay a large dog. 'No, it's a wolf. A really small wolf.' It turned its head to look at him, eyes pleading for an end to the pain.

Angel was tempted to leave the wild animal to tend to itself. That was, after all, the nature of things. He was stopped, however, by the nagging knowledge of what Cordelia would say if she discovered what he'd done. 'A poor, defenseless animal, Angel? When you're injured we don't leave you lying there bleeding on the pavement.' Sighing in resignation toward the Cordy within, he stooped down and pulled the animal into his arms and headed off toward home. 

From the shadows of the alley, a pair of eyes glowed in the darkness. It watched the vampire exit the area carrying the wolf. Then, growling softly, it turned on its heel and raced out of the passage.

~*~

It took Angel a lot longer than usual to get "back to the office" due to the heavy bundle he'd brought with him. Cordelia and Wesley looked up briefly from their respective positions as he came into view in the hallway: she at the computer and he on a chair in the corner. Angel sighed in exasperation when neither one of them made a move to open the door for him. Shifting the unconscious animal in his arms, he finally managed to gracelessly open the door with his backside. 

"Ugh. What is that _smell_?" Cordelia inquired, craning her neck out in front of the computer to sniff hesitantly at the room. "It smells like…like…something in major need of a shower." She glared over at Wesley, who shot her a look of disdain in return.

"Ahem…I believe the source of the rather untimely odor is coming from Angel." Wesley informed her.

"Angel? I warned you about long-term brooding and how it makes you forget things…"

"Cordelia," He halted her, "It's not me. It's her." He gestured with his head to the furry thing in his arms.

"Oh great. It's not enough that we let lowlifes with buzz cuts and piercings and absolutely no money in here, but now we're inviting _vermin_?!" She accused.

"It's a wolf, Cordelia, not a rat."

"Whatever. I sincerely hope you don't expect me to share air with that. Who knows what type of disease I'm going to catch?" Cordelia picked up her purse as she spoke, leaving a wide berth between her and Angel as she headed out the door.

Watching her leave, Angel shook his head. "So much for the Cordelia within." Turning to the elevator, he tossed back at Wesley, "Search the internet for reports of a lost animal. I'll be downstairs."

~*~

Downstairs, Angel allowed himself to relax a bit. He set the furry beast on the spare bed, moving quickly to the couch to retrieve a large blanket. Bloodstains on the bed were hell to get out. Carefully, he lifted the battered animal and placed the blanket underneath its still form. 

Satisfied, Angel proceeded to run through his usual _really_ early morning routine. He fed quickly in the kitchen, draping his coat over the edge of one of the chairs as he swept by on his way to the bathroom. Stepping out from the shower a few minutes later, he gave a glance over at the bed. The animal was still unmoving. He paused for a moment then to size up the creature now inhabiting his home. 

She, he could tell that it was female from its size and build, was a dark-haired dog, slim and sleek, though by no means gaunt. Measuring about 5-and-a-half feet, he guessed, she was not large. The only thing marring what was normally, he observed, a beautiful animal, were the wounds that covered its length from nose to belly. The animal had taken a serious, bloody beating.

'Those voices I heard were probably some kids, alleviating their boredom by beating an animal half-to-death.' The thought raised Angel's hackles immediately. He struggled to contain a growl at what had been done to one with whom he felt such a strong affinity. A client had once referred to him as a 'lone wolf', and he could not disagree. It disturbed him that such a thing had occurred, even though there was nothing he could have done to prevent it. 

Shaking himself out of his thoughts, he turned toward the bedroom to get dressed when something else caught his eye. A detail he had missed on his first inspection. Moving closer, he realized that he was right. The wolf had a marking on its head. A large patch of…blue fur? He fingered the unusual mark, puzzling over how it had gotten there. Deciding to save that one for later, he clutched at his towel, padding off to the bedroom to find clothing. 

Returning a few moments later, Angel positioned himself on the couch across the room from the beast, and watched. His hard gaze fixed upon the animal, mind working overtime as he sat and thought. Not about it, mind you, just his normal nightly brood. The clock Wesley had gotten him recently ticked away the minutes as he sat transfixed, lost in his own mind. His brooding was interrupted, however, by sleep, which swiftly claimed him as he gave into the exhaustion of the night's events.

~*~

8:00 am found Angel sleeping semi-peacefully on the couch in the living room. 8:01 found him snapping instantly awake, senses on full alert, mind awhirl. If any human had awoken quite like he had just done, they would have given themselves a nice big heart attack. As it was, Angel almost gave _himself _a nice big shock when, out of the corner of his eye, something moved. 

The creature on the bed was…was….well, moving. It was unlike anything he'd ever seen before. He stood warily, not wanting to disturb whatever force was causing this to occur. The beast was…changing. As he watched, a visible ripple ran through its body, causing it to convulse. Bone and sinew shifted almost painfully, reshaping and reforming before his eyes. Hair receded, replaced by smooth, pale skin. Arms and legs extended as the snout shrank into its face, and elongated canines became blunt and harmless. The transformation completed in less than a minute, and he was left staring at very young, very naked young woman.

Frozen in shock, Angel was unable to do anything but turn his body and avert his eyes in respect for both his and her modesty. He heard the girl on the bed shift and awaken. 

"Holy shi..." He heard her mutter to herself. She hadn't seen him yet, he assumed, and his thoughts were confirmed when he heard what she said next. "Who the hell are you?"

Still averting his gaze, he gestured toward the bed as he replied, "Blanket?"

Noticing her state of dress, she quickly grabbed the blanket out from beneath her and wrapped it around her person. His back was still to her, so she called out in confirmation, "You can turn around now. I'm decent."

Angel readily complied, slowly rotating until he was facing her. He looked up reluctantly to meet her gaze. 'So that's where the marking came from.' He noted as he took in her bright shock of blue hair. It wasn't her unusual choice of hair color that raised his hackles, however. It was the look on her face.

The girl's eyes held a mixing pot of emotions: fear, awe, and sorrow. Seconds passed as she held his gaze with that same expression, mouth slightly agape. Finally, she spoke.

"It's you."

The second those words left her lips she was on the move. The blanket flapped behind her as she whirled and ran, bare feet slapping on the linoleum as she rounded the corner and disappeared out of the apartment in a blur of blue. She left so quickly that Angel had time to do nothing but watch her go. Overcoming his shock, he made a half-hearted attempt to follow her before acknowledging that there was no way he was going to catch her now. 

Sighing in resignation, he responded out loud to her earlier accusing words. "Yeah, I get that a lot."

~*~

"The thing was a werewolf?" Wesley inquired as he leafed through a book.

"Not a werewolf. Werewolves change with the moon. When it comes out, they change. When the sun comes up, they change back. She didn't revert to human form until a good hour after the sun came up." Angel explained quietly, reviewing the information he had for both their benefits. 

"Maybe she's just not a morning person." Cordelia piped up from behind the computer. The off-hand remarkwas not well received. "Hey, it was just a suggestion."

Ignoring her comment, Angel continued, "I'm not sure what to make of it. I'm thinking maybe a _wer madra_ or a _saith._"

"Hmmm…from what you described to us, I seriously doubt that we're dealing with a _wer madra_. Besides being predominantly male, the species hasn't been seen since the early 17th century, and even then, they were primarily located in Northern Europe," Wesley commented, setting the tome he had been studying on a nearby chair and moving toward the bookcase, "It is entirely possible that she was a _saith, _but we'd definitely need more information before making a final determination."

"_Saiths _usually hunt alone. And their breed only consists of females. I heard a male voice in the alleyway. Something's telling me that the fight I heard last night might not have been human vs. beast." Angel countered.

"Are you suggesting that this was a…a...pack matter? I thought you said there were human voices." 

"There were human voices. Maybe they weren't a part of the conflict. They sounded like they were cheering them on. Showing support. They weren't directly involved."

"Did you, perchance, get any names amidst all the brawling?" Wesley inquired, running his finger along the spines of various books in the case.

"I got a Ryne, and an Alannah, and I'm sure there were at least two more. A male and a female."

"Perhaps we should see if our new friend has been documented then. Maybe someone else will have more information then we do." Welsey glanced pointedly at Angel as he spoke.

"Right. Cordelia," Angel got her attention with a slight wave of the hand, "Go with Wesley around town and see if you can pinpoint a location on her. Try centralizing on 4th and Main and working outward from there. Whoever she was fighting with last night seemed to know who she was. See what you can find out."

"Oh great. Now we're not only looking for a wer-girl, but her posse of crazies are on the list too. Joy." Cordelia commented, shrugging on her jean jacket as she stood to follow Wesley.

"We're on it." Wesley confirmed finally, taking a protesting Cordelia by the arm and guiding her toward the door. "Call us if you need us, and be careful. It didn't seem like she wanted anybody's company."

~*~

Alannah lay back on her four-poster bed and sighed. Running her fingers through her short hair, she pushed herself up onto an elbow and stared out the window. Below, Phelan and her mother sat on the backyard swing, talking the afternoon away. Beyond that, Ryne and Aiden ran through the extensive backyard, throwing rocks at each other and baring their teeth.She watched as Ryne caught Aiden and tackled him to the ground, crushing some of her mother's violets in the process. 

Rolling her eyes at their blatant display of testosterone, Alannah rolled back onto her side and stared at the wall. Images from the night before filled her head and made her thoughts swim. Ryne, leaping for her throat; fangs bared. The transformation as the challenge was formally issued. Growls and cries of pain as claws tore into flesh and fur met fur. Then, blessed silence as Aiden, violating the most sacred rule of their clan, came up behind her and cracked her head against the pavement.

Her memory left her for several hours after that, returning only after she'd reverted to human form. And then, the man. The man so familiar, even though they had never met. The one so strong, yet so vulnerable. Oh yes, she knew who he was, and what he was. She knew well more than she wanted to know, but nothing could help that now.

Unknowingly, Alannah had begun to finger the dark blue blanket beside her on the bed, the only remnant of her meeting with him. She dropped it hurriedly, as if it had burned her, and moved quickly to stand. Picking up her keys off the nightstand, she moved for the stairs, never taking her eyes off the piece of material.It received one final, almost fearful, look before she turned and descended down the stairs, leaving one word to echo about the room.

"Angel."

~*~

"…There's a 411 in progress down on Sunset. Suspect is apparently…..and is…." "5 alpha-charlie…say, did anybody pick up the donuts this morning?" "This is 4-niner-delta, requesting backup at 1423…" The crackle of numerous police radios greeted Angel as he pushed open the doors to the LAPD. 

He looked about him in disinterest, his focus only on avoidance. Los Angeles' finest paid him no attention as they went about their normal daily routine, which usually worked in his favor. He paused to allow a uniformed officer to pass, toting a sullen-looking teen behind him. The kid, apparently finding a problem with the way Angel was standing, gave him a rude gesture as she disappeared into an interrogation room. 

He kept walking, passing the information desk on his way to where the most recent police reports were located. Rounding the corner, he saw that luck was in his favor.

"Detective Birdrow," he greeted the stout man behind the counter, who was graying slightly at the temples.

"Angel." He confirmed, hanging up the phone he'd been using and leaning back in his chair, "What can I do for you?"

"I'm looking for a file on a girl. About 16 or 17, short blue hair. Named Alannah."

"Last name?" the officer asked, standing to search the file drawers.

"She didn't exactly offer it to me."

Birdrow gave him a brief look of derision, before continuing his search. "Lucky for you, I think I know who this kid is." Seconds later, he pulled a file from the back of the cabinet and shut the drawer. "Got it. Alannah McCormick. Seventeen years old." He dropped the file onto his desk within Angel's reach.

Angel retrieved the information, tucking it up under his arm as he turned to leave. "Thanks Detective. I'll have this back to you tonight."

"No problem, Angel. I'll give Detective Lockley your regards."

Angel stopped at the doorway and turned. "That might not be the best idea."

Birdrow looked at him funnily for a moment before shrugging and waving him out of the office. Closing the door behind him, Angel waited until he was walking the sewer access before opening the file. He strolled the tunnel as he scanned the file, taking in its contents. It stated the usual jargon: name, date of birth, age. It was the police comments at the bottom of the sheet, however, that drew his attention:

'Suspected of murder one in the case of a 

Mr. Austin Higa. Mr. Higa died at the scene 

of the crime, the apparent victim of a mauling.

Accused was seen fleeing the scene.'

He flipped the page, looking for anything else of use, when a single phrase made him stop short. 

'Defendant represented by Wolfram and Hart.'

~*~

December 1999

Outside of Keysmouth, Oregon

"Oh god…oh god…oh...*sob* god…" the repetitive whisper of agony and disbelief was barely distinguishable amongst the cacophony of mournful howls. 

The sound of the gunshot still echoed in her head. It was like cracking a whip, over and over, against the back of her skull. *Crack* And again it came. She knew without a doubt that the source of the shot was already dead. Torn to pieces, if he'd been lucky, by members of the pack. All that remained, a mere two minutes after, was the howling, the sobbing, and…the overwhelming grief. 

How could this have happened? Nightfall found her pack hunting the woods surrounding Keysmouth, Oregon, as they did every night. Everyone who hunted ate; he always made sure of it. Rabbits, deer, and the occasional fox were stalked and devoured in earnest. They walked side by side, leading their kin across streams, through underbrush. All was as it should be. The bullet took them all by surprise.

* The murderer had been laying in wait, eyes cold; heart even colder. A string of pointed canines strung about his neck, the man named Cain lay in wait near the spot he'd picked out the night before. Gun loaded, cocked, and filled with deadly silver. They'd come, as the always did, just after midnight into the clearing. Cain chuckled to himself, thoughts on the string about his neck, and pulled the trigger as the first beast stepped into the open air.

He hit his mark. He always hit his mark. The creature went down gracelessly, and the one beside it looked up in alarm. Directly at him. Silence prevailed for the longest of moments as each one's thoughts processed what had just occurred. The other beast continued to look him directly in the eye, causing a trickle of fear to course down his spine involuntarily. Cain stood quickly, attempting to turn and run now that his job was complete. He wouldn't be getting a tooth off this job; he was certain. Turning around found him face-to-face with three deadly looking wolves, teeth bared in vengeance. They were the last things he ever saw. *

She was the only one who'd relinquished her natural form in order to cradle his head in her lap. Alannah stroked his hair, cursing the silver that had embedded itself into a heart so kind and caring with the tears that coursed down her cheeks. A heart that loved her. His heart had been filled with love until it's final beat. He used his final breath to tell her how much he loved them. She cried shamelessly, letting her tears fall on his face, which was human. Soon, now that he was dead, his features would return to their true form: that of the mighty _fer._ She turned her head away, facing the rest, and nodded almost imperceptively.

Their leader was dead. Her father was dead. Seconds later, she allowed her own mournful wail to join those already filling the night air with sorrow. 

~*~

May 2000

Los Angeles

"No, I said you had to sell by 8:00 today, not buy," the man barked at his telephone, not slowing at all as he moved to cross the street, "Which means you have exactly four minutes to sell that stock before you get BOTH our asses tossed out on a street corner."

He listened impatiently as the voice on the other end responded to his statement. "Yeah. I sure as hell hope so, man. For your sake." The man snapped the phone shut and tucked it into the inside pocket of his very expensive Armani suit. He sighed as he walked, running a hand through his jet-black hair as he glanced casually into a store window, checking his reflection. Dusk had only recently fallen, so he could still see himself fairly well. Picking up his pace, he made a sharp right at the corner and continued toward his destination.

He didn't know it yet, but he was being followed. Had been for quite some time, as a matter of fact. It was biding its time, waiting for the man to pass under a burnt out streetlight or turn onto a deserted side street. The figure stalked him slowly and silently, sticking to the shadows, glancing about every once in awhile at its surroundings. Without warning, the man in the suit stopped and looked about him cautiously. 'Oh yeah. It's even more fun when they know.'

Stopping short, he glanced about warily. He thought he'd heard something behind him. Was he being followed? Something screamed inside his head, telling him to reach into his coat and grab his cell phone. But he didn't. 'I don't have time for this. I need to get home.' Still, he quickened his pace…and was horrified to hear whatever was behind him increase speed as well. The man allowed himself a quick glance backwards before he broke into a run. Nothing. Shadows and streetlights. Then something moved. 

He managed to get a hand on his cell phone before the animal lunged out of the shadows and knocked him over. Unfortunately, he never got to use it. Impact with the concrete caused the phone to skitter crazily into a nearby bush: useless. The scream in his throat wouldn't come into being. It died, as did he, when the beast sank its fangs into his jugular and ripped his throat out. 

The animal dragged its kill into the bushes, leaving a small trail of blood and a single, square object lying in a pool of lamplight on the empty sidewalk. A briefcase, monogrammed in gold with two initials: AH.

~*~

May 2000

Los Angeles

Alannah stomped around a street corner, hands clenched into fists at her sides. Ryne was up to something; she just knew it. The smug look on his face when he'd left her house earlier, totally wasted, had just screamed that he was looking for trouble. He wouldn't have to look very hard to find it, that she was sure of. Trouble and Ryne were so inseparable, they might as well pass themselves off as the new Doublemint Twins.

'Alike in nearly every way. Only when you meet them, you don't double your pleasure. You double your terror.' She paused for a moment to sniff the air. Ryne was close, or had been recently. Alannah set a new course in order to follow the scent, veering off in a westward direction. She stalked the streets for a few minutes, eyes narrowed and gaze so focused that she really wasn't paying attention to where she was going. One minute she was semi-jogging down the street; the next, she found herself lying on her back seeing stars. Both literally and proverbially. 

"Oh joy," she muttered when she realized she'd fallen into something wet and sticky, "Another ridiculously high dry-cleaning bill." Then she realized exactly what the substance was.

Blood. The unmistakable scent slammed into her senses, turning her stomach. It took a great amount of control not to gag as she struggled to scramble out of the mess. Looking down, she saw a trail of blood which led into the nearby brush. Next to it, intact and untouched by the red, lay a small black briefcase. She paid it no mind, stepping forward to follow the blood trail. The smell grew stronger as she came closer to the bushes. The sight that greeted her when she entered the brush sent an icy dagger of fear straight to her heart.

It was a man. 'Correction. It's what's left of a man.' He lay on his back, eyes staring sightlessly. The markings on his body and the way he was killed was very familiar to her eyes. 'Shit.' 

The man in the Armani suit had been mauled. Throat torn open, gaping claw wounds on his torso. Alannah stared at the sight in disbelief. Everything seemed to stop. The wind. Time. Her heart. The only thing she was aware of was the dead body, which threatened to expose secrets that her kind had worked so hard to keep. It was unimaginable. But it was there. No amount of eye-blinking or arm-pinching would make it go away. Sirens wailed in the distance.

*Ring ring* She jumped involuntarily as the tinny sound of a cell phone invaded her thoughts. 'I'm disconnected from my body', she thought, as she found herself digging in a bush for the source of the sound. Finding it, she picked up the black piece of plastic with a bloody hand. 

"Hello?? Austin?" the voice rang out from the other end. "Are you there?…..This isn't funny, Higa…"

Alannah stared at it for a moment before dropping the telephone. She briefly realized that the sirens she'd heard earlier had ceased. It didn't really register to her why that was as she moved to run home as fast as her heavy heart and eyes, stinging with unshed tears, would allow her. 

"You! Don't move! Police!" The voice accused her from behind. 

She turned quickly, breath catching in her throat as she took in the multiple cruisers and single ambulance that filled the street corner when she wasn't looking. Without realizing it, she had begun inching backward.

"I repeat, don't move! Stay where you are and you won't get hurt!" The officer drew his weapon and pointed the barrel steadily in her direction.

She was beyond comprehension now. Her legs moved without her, carrying her swiftly away from the flashing lights and accusing voices. They shouted after her, and she dimly registered a shot whiz by her left shoulder, and another by her ear. She pressed on, gasping for air to fill her burning lungs as she sobbed. Her legs were pumping so hard, she half-imagined that they'd leave without her. 

How long had she been running? Was anybody still following her? She had no idea, but still she didn't slow. 'Oh god. Oh god.' She pressed on, bringing a hand to her face to swipe at the tears clouding her vision. All she managed to do was smear them across her face, staining her cheeks pink with the combination of blood and water. She was blind; she didn't know where she was or where she was going. The only coherent thought in her mind echoed in her head and spilled from her lips. "_Run_."

"Run. Run. Run. Run. Runrunrunrunrun…." The word kept time with her feet as she fled.

For ten minutes she ran, never stopping; never slowing. They must be gone by now. She hadn't heard anything in awhile. She processed that for a second, then bravely allowed herself a glance backwards. 'Oh go….' Her thoughts halted as she collided with something solid.

"Oof." Alannah found herself being grabbed by the forearms. Her breath came in ragged gulps as she forced her eyes to look upward. A man in a business suit 'Oh god. A suit like _him_' supported her weight, looking at her in concern. 

"Hey…hey. It's okay," He soothed her over her heavy breathing, "I'm here to help you."

All she heard was 'help'. She nodded briskly. "Uh…*sob*…huh."

"That's right. I hear you've gotten yourself into a bit of a jam," he chatted as he led her toward a waiting limo, "Don't worry. We specialize in helping people like you. Everything's going to be fine. I promise."

She gazed up into his face. He was handsome; bluish eyes and feathered brown hair. He smiled assuringly at her, nodding as if to make her feel better. "Who…are you?" she asked.

She stepped into the limo and he followed her, shutting the door and signaling the driver. "My name is Lindsay, Alannah. I'm with Wolfram and Hart," he said as they pulled away from the curb, "And now that you've got us, your problems are nothing more than a memory."

~*~

"Angel. Is there a problem?" Wesley queried into the telephone. 

"Is that him?" Cordelia asked from the driver's seat as she swerved to avoid an oncoming car. 

"Cordelia! Please watch where you're going." Wesley shook his head, wondering if the decision to let Cordelia drive would cost him more than just his sanity. "No Angel, nothing's wrong. You were saying?"

Cordelia surveyed the crowded sidewalks as she drove, eyes searching for blue hair…or something furry. 'Oooh, sale at Neiman Marcus. I could so use another pair of…' A blaring horn blast caused her to jump and jerk the wheel involuntarily. She narrowly avoided broad-siding a minivan. "Hey, watch where you're going, grandma!" she fumed as she righted the car, "We're carrying precious cargo."

Wesley, still trying to decide whether or not he was going into cardiac arrest, clutched the phone to his chest and struggled to speak. "Cordelia, I don't believe we're carrying anything of particular value, unless you count the…"

"I meant _me_, Wesley," she replied, as if speaking to a two-year-old. 

He shook his head at that, a small smile on his face, before he realized that the phone was speaking to him again. "What? Oh...no. Nothing's wrong. Cordelia's just reminding me again why she should always remain a passenger."

She shot him a petulant look as she resumed scouring the streets. "At least I'm looking for her, which is more than I can say for you."

"Cordelia, I'm talking to Angel…"

"Well, you can't talk and look at the same time? Are you challenged in some way?" she interrupted. Not waiting for his response, she jerked the wheel sharply to the right as she changed lanes without signaling.

By then, Wesley had had enough. His heart was lodged somewhere between his liver and his kidney, and the knuckles on his left hand were turning white from the grip he had on the seat cushion. "Pull over, Cordelia."

"What? But we haven't…" He shot her a look and she finally complied. "Fine. Just don't expect me to drive you anywhere again."

When she wasn't looking he shifted his eyes heavenward and muttered a brief 'thank you' before returning his ear to the telephone. "You _what_? She's there? How on earth did you find her?" He listened for a few more moments before closing the phone and dropping it into Cordelia's purse. 

"Angel found the girl. Actually, she was waiting for him in the office when he got there."

"Great, so I just spent two hours of my valuable time searching for someone that we didn't even need to look for because she staked out a spot for herself at the office?" she countered. 

"Apparently so." He replied.

"Okay," she confirmed, starting the car, "Just checking." Before she could pull away from the curb, Wesley placed his hand over the ignition key and turned it off, glaring at her. "All right, all right!" she raised her hands in surrender as she exited the car, "You can drive this time."

~*~

Did he _have_ to stare at her like that? Not only was it unnerving, it was just plain weird. She sat on the couch staring into space, trying to pretend that his gaze didn't bother her in the least. The tingle on the back of her neck hadn't let up for the past ten minutes. 'Does he not blink either?' 

Angel leaned against the wall across from the girl, staring intently. He was thinking, and, in fact, didn't even notice what he was looking at, let alone the effect his gaze was having. Where had she come from? What and how did she know of him? More importantly, how did Wolfram and Hart fit into all of it? 'All I know is, they definitely weren't there to help.'

Alannah sighed, shifting in her seat so that she was facing away from the vampire. She scratched at the back of her neck, growing increasingly annoyed by his actions. 'Why am I still here? I could just leave. What do I care what happens to him?' But she couldn't leave, and she knew it. Something inside her told her that if she left now and kept her knowledge a secret, she would be causing more harm than good. Harm not just to herself, but to him; and in turn, to everyone. 

"You know, you're really good at that. Staring at people. Been practicing long?" She spoke aloud without realizing it. 

He started at the sound of her voice, finally focusing his eyes on the person before him. Angel blinked once as he processed what she'd said, allowing himself a small smile. "A few lifetimes." He replied. 

Not quite sure how to answer, she fell silent again, staring off into space. The awkwardness in the air was tangible. Angel fidgeted slightly, striding quickly over to the coffee machine. "Do you want some coffee? Or…a donut?" He held one out for her inspection. 

"No thanks. I'm really not hungry for…donuts." She froze then, picking up on noises in the hall. "Someone's coming."

"It's probably my associates. I was on the phone with one of them when I walked in and…saw you." He neglected to mention the fact that not only had he seen her, he almost took her head off with a scythe he happened to have handy in the process. 

"Lucky for me you have bad aim." She mused, pulling at a few strands of her hair as Wesley and Cordelia entered the room.

"Hey, it wasn't my fault some old bag lady set up shop in the middle of the road. Suicide is all the rage nowadays." Cordelia huffed, walking through the door, completely oblivious to the other occupants of the office. 

"She was using the crosswalk, Cordelia." Wesley shot back with a haggard look. 

"Whatever. The point is…" 

Angel cleared his throat loudly and found himself on the receiving end of two patented looks: one grateful, the other annoyed. "Children," he began, not about to let their bickering slide, "This is Alannah McCormick."

"Nice to meet you." Wesley stepped forward and offered his hand as Cordelia looked over and mouthed to Angel 'that's her?!'

Alannah, for her part, looked a bit unsure of herself. Half of her wanted to turn tail and run…again, and the other half…well, the other half of her wasn't quite sure what it wanted to do yet. She finally managed to offer them a wavering smile and a tiny wave. "Um...hey."

Uncomfortable silence followed the introduction. For several moments, staring seemed to be the popular activity as they all struggled for a way to approach the subject. 

"So…I came here for an actual reason, believe it or not," Alannah began suddenly, "I...think I know stuff...about you. Angel. Um…I think you might be in danger. Lots of it. Worse than mine."

"Angel's always in danger.His day just wouldn't start off on the right foot without it. Kind of like normal people and cheerios. What else is new?" Cordelia shrugged, grabbing a cup of coffee. 

Alannah moved over to the window. "No,this isn't new. It's old. Older than anyone can imagine, from what little I know. And it's pure evil. You really can't imagine how….shit."

She looked through the glass toward the street below, gaze fixed on something across the street. "He followed me. Bastard."

Angel put a hand on her shoulder and peered into the darkness. "Who?"

She shook him off and began gathering her things. "Nobody. Look, coming here was a mistake. I should really go. I'm sorry."

"Wait." He caught up with her before she was halfway to the door and spun her around. "We can help you. I know a place where we'll be safe to talk." Angel let the unspoken question hang in the air and waited for her response.

She debated for a minute, eyes drawn to the window, flickers of fear and anger in her eyes. "Okay," she deflated, "Let's go."

Ryne watched from across the street as the light from the office went out. Snarling to himself, he shoved his hands into his pockets and rushed across the intersection. Stopping in front of Angel Investigations, he sniffed the air for a moment and then smiled into the darkness. "Speaking to vampires, Alannah? We can't have that, now can we? They're dangerous. But not as dangerous as me."

Ryne reached into his coat and pulled out a cell phone. He held it to his ear and waited. "Ryne here. She contacted him. I don't know what she's told him. They headed out about a minute ago."

Lindsay leaned back in his posh leather chair on the 5th floor. Lila sat across from him, legs crossed. The Wolfram and Hart junior partners listened as the boy spoke.

Lila leaned forward and spoke into the speakerphone."I suggest, for your health…and for the health of your precious _Alannah_, that you remedy the situation as soon as possible. She is not to make contact with the vampire."

"If she speaks…she could ruin everything. The senior partners don't look fondly on failure. And I don't fail. So do it." Lindsay added, mouth set in a grim line.

"And oh…Ryne?" Lila added offhandedly as she reached to hang up the phone, "Have a nice day."

~*~

May 2000

Wolfram and Hart 

The elevator ride up to the fifth floor seemed to take forever. Alannah stood in the corner; head down, eyes downcast. To the other occupant of the elevator, she seemed sad, scared, and wary. In truth, she was thinking. Her eyes twitched back and forth as her thoughts processed. Why was she here? What did they want? How did they know about her? The floor below her offered up no answers, so she tilted her head toward the man beside her. 

Lindsay. At least, that was the name he'd given her. Very aware that he was under scrutiny, the man in question checked his wristwatch and gave a little smile. "Feeling better, Alannah?"

Her head snapped to attention at the sound of her name. She blinked a couple of times, wondering if he knew what she'd been doing. "Huh? Oh…yeah. I guess so." 

She toed the carpet with her foot, waiting silently for the metal doors to open. Wherever he was taking her, she knew it was going to be nice. Anyplace that had leather benches in their elevators was automatically five-star material. At last, the bell signaling they had reached their destination sounded, and the doors parted to reveal a lush, carpeted hallway. 

Lindsay held the door open so she could exit, which she did, hesitantly glancing in either direction as she left the confined space. The sigh of mild relief that escaped her lips didn't go unnoticed by her companion. 

"Something wrong?" Lindsay inquired.

"Oh, um, no. Not really. I'm just a little…claustrophobic, I guess." She offered him a little laugh and a shrug, not wanting to draw attention to her weaknesses. 

He graciously let it slide, and began leading her down the endless hallway. Her gaze wandered over the expensive artwork that littered the otherwise boring walls. Every now and then they passed an office door. Jennifer Roberts, Junior Partner. Geoffrey Banks, Associate. All of the doors were closed tightly, and no sound came from within. 

The walls opened up suddenly, and she found herself in what appeared to be a large conference room. It too, was empty, save for a thick manila file folder that rested on the end of one of the tables. A woman sat next to the file, rifling through a briefcase. Lindsay paused, making his way over to the table, obviously expecting her to do the same. She didn't follow, still inspecting her surroundings.

The room was huge, complete with large bay windows that looked out into the bustling city. The walls here were bare, stretching out on both ends of the room until they met the hallway. It was the remaining side, the one opposite the windows, that caught her attention. Another large window was situated in the middle of the wall. Alannah was surprised she hadn't noticed it when they'd passed it the first time. 

Glancing behind her, she found Lindsay and the other woman talking animatedly, looking through the files in the folder. Satisfied that she was unobserved, she walked toward the window in the wall. Peering into the glass, she saw nothing at first. The room was dark, lit only by the weak light that managed to reflect through the window. It was essentially bare. No furniture, no plants, no artwork on the walls. It didn't seem to belong somehow. 

In the middle of the space sat a large wooden box. Metal bars ran around on all sides, toward the top. It was tightly padlocked. Intrigued, she pressed her hands to the glass and peered closer. What she saw made her eyes widen in disbelief. Something was…glowing. Two angry yellow dots glared unmoving at her from between the bars. They held her, enraptured, in their gaze. An involuntary shudder caused goosebumps to rise up on her arms and her breath to catch in her throat. Her gasp alerted the couple conversing behind her, but she didn't notice. She was still staring into the darkened room. 'They almost look like...like…'

"Alannah!" Lindsay cried, grabbing her by the arm and spinning her around, "What are you doing?" 

"I'm...uh..."

"C'mon. Sorry to keep you waiting. Lila here was filling me in a little bit more on your case. Let's go to my office and we'll talk." He was leading her away from the window.

She stopped, still staring. "What's in there?"

"In where?" Lila inquired, faking innocence. "Oh, there? That's…nothing. Don't worry about it."

Reluctantly, she turned and began to follow them to Lindsay's office. She hadn't gone two steps before something made her look back again. The window was gone. She blinked once, debating on whether to pinch herself or not. But it was true. The pane of glass had disappeared, replaced by a large work of art. 

'It was there. I know it was. I saw...something. They looked like…'

As she continued down the hallway, it finally came to her. What those yellow dots had looked like. 'They looked like…eyes.'

~*~

"Your case is very interesting, but easily solved." Lindsay began, closing the door to his office and offering her a chair. "The murder charge will be dismissed by next week."

"Wait…murder charge? What are you talking about?" Alannah glanced up from her chair, alarmed, "I didn't kill anyone."

"Of course you didn't. Wolfram and Hart clients are not found guilty. Ever." Lila replied, sliding the file she'd been looking through across the table. 

"But…I don't need to be found guilty. Or innocent. I didn't do anything!" Her voice rose as she struggled to convince them, and herself, of her innocence. 

"That's not what the LAPD is saying, Alannah," Lindsay flipped through some papers and pulled one out, "According to this, a girl fitting your description is being charged with first-degree murder in the case of a Mr. Austin Higa. I suspect they'll find your fingerprints at the scene, am I right?"

'How does he know all this?' She nodded almost imperceptively in response, remembering. "I…I…didn't mean to. His phone rang, and I answered it. I don't know why. Maybe because…because...are they looking for me?"

Lindsay nodded in disinterest as he shuffled through papers, "They are. They're probably at your home by now. Waking your mother, pestering her with questions. But don't worry. We're here."

"You keep saying that!" she blurted out, suddenly angry, "Don't worry. I'm being sought after for a brutal homicide of some suit I've never even met, and you tell me not to worry?! What is this to you, all 'peaches and cream'? Nothing? A _joke_?" she was frightened almost to the point of delirium. These past few hours had been hell on her body, and on her mind. She wasn't quite sure anymore what was real and what was in her head.

"Who the hell are you anyway? How do you know all this about me? What do you _want_!?" The last word came out shrilly, echoing off the pale walls and ringing in her ears. 

"We only want to help you, Alannah. That's what we do. Wolfram and Hart is a full-service law firm. We help you, and you help us." Lila replied, eerily calm as she crossed her legs at the knee and leaning back in her chair.

Lindsay shot her a warning look, quickly covering it with a warm smile, which he directed at Alannah. "Excuse us for a moment, will you?" Rising quickly, he strode over to his partner's chair and grabbed her forcibly by the shoulder. The door shut behind them with a resounding click.

Alannah let out the breath she'd been holding slowly, releasing the death grip she'd put on the arms of the chair. She let her eyes roam over the roomy office, taking in the starkness. Her gaze fell on the nameplate, which proudly adorned the desk before her. Lindsay MacDonald, it said. She stared at it for a moment, not sure why something so simple was holding her attention. Perhaps because it was solid, real. Her grasp on that part of life seemed to have slipped recently. She needed to get her head together and figure out what was going on. She needed to..

"Aaaaaallllll..."

She barely heard the whisper of a voice as it floated into the room. Something was calling her. She was sure of it. But what was it saying?

"Aaaaaalllllll…."

Without realizing it, she'd left the office of Lindsay MacDonald, junior partner. She was walking down the hallway where she'd first entered, from the elevator. The hallway seemed darker, less inviting than it had earlier. The voice, although she was moving closer, still wasn't getting any louder. 

"Aaaaaannnnnlllll…"

She stopped at the large conference room where she'd first met Lila. The window was back. It stared at her blankly from the middle of the wall, as if it had never left. 'What the..?' 

Alannah paused in front of it, pressing her hands against the glass and once again peering into the room's depths. The box was still there. An almost unnatural glow fell upon it from somewhere unseen…or maybe it was just her imagination. The comprehension dawned upon her a split-second before she saw a pale hand shoot out and grab a metal bar in a desperate grip.

She gasped and stumbled backward, snagging the palm of her hand against the window latch. She brought her palm to her chest, ignoring the angry red gash that had formed there. Peering through the window again, she watched as its other hand reached out and did the same, bringing with it those haunting yellow eyes from before. The voice…the one she'd heard…was coming from inside. It was angry and hurt and evil…and it spoke. 

"Aaaannngellllllussss…*pause*…Angel??"

~*~

"As you can kind of imagine, it scared the shit out of me. Oh, um…sorry," she amended quickly when she noticed Wesley's eyebrows rise in mild surprise, "It startled me. I tried to run, but I couldn't. The box started to rattle and shake like something was trying to get out." Alannah paused for a moment, as if struggling to dredge up something from her memory.

"I'm not really sure what happened next. Last thing I consciously remember is the thing in the box lunging at me through the bars. Next thing I know I'm back in Lindsay's office and he's shaking me awake. He told me I must've been having a dream because I was mumbling things about angels," she laughed humorlessly before continuing, "We were going to sit and talk some more about 'my case', but some guy in a neck brace came running in rambling on about a problem with 'the risen' or something. Lila told me to stay put, and then they all left."

"Were you?" Wesley implored.

"Was I what?" She returned, not quite sure what he was getting at.

"Dreaming, I mean? Was it a dream?"

She held up a hand in response. On the palm of her right hand, running in a diagonal from the base of her pinky finger to her wrist, was a thin pink scar. Angel rose from his seat at the table and moved to examine the mark. Taking her hand into his own for examination, he noted, "It wasn't a dream. It really happened. They tried to make you think it was all in your head."

"They did try. And no, It wasn't a dream," she confirmed, removing the offending hand from his grasp, "I noticed the cut on my hand right after they'd gone, so I knew what I'd seen was real…."

~*~

Alannah sat in the posh leather chair, staring in wonder at her hand, which was no longer bleeding. Lindsay had lied to her. She hadn't been dreaming. There _was_ a window in the wall, and whatever she'd seen had been real. Was real. Somehow, she'd been transported from the hallway back to where she was. In his office. Her eyes widened suddenly.

'In his office _alone_, with unguarded files all about little old me laying wide open on the desk.'

She was leaving, there'd been no doubt about that. There was something weird and vaguely sinister about all this. She couldn't afford any more trouble. First her father, then the man on the street, and now…now it was time to get the hell outta dodge. 

"Angels, things-in-a-box, one-handed lawyers….who needs this? I'll tell you who doesn't need this. Me. I didn't do anything wrong, and I don't owe them anything. They come on all creepy-like with all this information on me, pretending to help. Yeah well, that's a load of crap. They want something from me. And by the looks of the thing in that box, I'm guessing it's not something good.'

The decision was not an easy one. Those files were emitting some really strange vibes. She felt drawn to them; her fingers itched to hold them and read them. It wasn't right. But that feeling, the one she'd shoved to the back of her head when she first stepped off of that elevator, wouldn't go away. She was meant to be here. This was supposed to happen. It was..

"Destiny?" she scoffed at herself when realizing she'd spoken aloud. 

Destiny was a load of bull, fed to weak-minded people to quell their fears and help them sleep at night. It was an excuse to stop worrying. I mean, after all, if your path is decided for you, what's there to be afraid of? Your life is signed, sealed, and delivered right to you. Simple, and easy to overcome. 

'I make my own destiny.' She assured herself. So then, why wasn't she walking out the door, away from the brass nameplate and open files and expensive leather décor? Why couldn't she move?

"Oh, to hell with it."

She moved quickly, closing the files on the desk and sliding them over to her side of the table. They disappeared into her jacket, along with a nice-looking fountain pen. She swept the room once more before hurrying down the hall, eyes on the floor.

The art was in place again, she noted as she rushed past the conference room toward the elevator. The sigh of relief only came after she walked out the front doors of the building and onto the busy city street. She was safe. She was….safe. The feeling of predestination left her.

A smile broke out across her face in the middle of the crosswalk. 'Nice to know destiny comes through in a pinch.'

Secure on the other side, she allowed herself one last look at the building she'd escaped from...and was floored by the fear flooding into her veins, turning her to stone.

Lindsay watched her rush across the street and away from Wolfram and Hart. He waited in front of the window, knowing exactly what she was going to do. The look of dawning horror and revulsion on her face as she spotted him and what he was brandishing brought a self-satisfied smile to his handsome face. Lindsay let the moment linger for awhile before removing the picture from the window and sauntering out of the room. He whistled light-heartedly at the photograph in his hands, closing the door to his office behind him.

Staring back up at him with a feral expression was Cain, the werewolf hunter.

~*~

Angel was the first to realize the implications of the said photograph. He made no move to comfort her, though the memories were causing her obvious pain. She'd done what she thought was right. Maybe it had been her destiny, but she was no longer a willing participant in it. The second that picture registered in her psyche, destiny had taken a back seat to her fear. Wolfram and Hart had a knack for fear, it seemed. Especially when it came to inspiring it.

The subject of his thoughts was worrying her lower lip in an attempt to quell the rising tide of tears that threatened around the edges of her lashes. He sat and waited. He was good at that, and old enough to know the value of patience. It was not, however, a value Cordelia seemed to hold dear.

"I'm sorry about your father and all, but is that _it_? I mean, you left with the files, so that means you have them. Can we-?"

"Cordelia." Wesley made no attempt to conceal the warning in his tone, his gaze never wavering from their storyteller. 

She bristled slightly at the command, but wisely fell silent. The three of them waited, outward stoicism hiding the guarded anticipation stirring within their beings. This girl, this demon girl, was very possibly holding their lives in her unwilling hands. She had been the reluctant recipient of precious information of no concern to her, except that now she was a part of it all. Wolfram and Hart corrupted and destroyed everything it touched. Why they had chosen her to be drawn into the tangled mess of the existence of the vampire-with-a-soul and his cohorts was beyond them. They, after all, were not evil. 

"Yes. I have them." It was all she said. 

She'd given up trying to fight it, trying to escape. Seeking help was a sign of weakness in the eyes of the _fer._ Her kind were proud and strong, and fiercely independent. They were never afraid. Lindsay and Lila and that…'thing-in-a-box' took that away from her. Alannah was dragged kicking and screaming into someone else's world that day in May. Or maybe, she thought, it had happened sooner. In December. When her father was murdered by them. This vampire now shared his life with her. It was only fair to return the favor.

"I have them. I read them. And I hid them somewhere so I'd never forget what it was like to be afraid." 

Whatever was in that box was bigger than all of them, of that she was certain. She'd carried the knowledge in those thick manila folders as another burden upon her shoulders for far too long. It was time to share. Her shoulders hurt enough as it was. 

"Where are they?" Angel queried softly, refusing to meet her gaze. 

His only answer came from the lights, which went out the second the words left his lips.

~*~

To her credit, Cordelia didn't scream. Sudden lack of electricity at a critical point in a revealing conversation generally meant badness, true, but screaming wouldn't prevent them from being killed or maimed or…

She stopped that train of thought, realizing that everything was still quiet. No gunshots, no screams, no feral growling. 

"Is everybody all right?" Angel asked from somewhere on her right. 

"Cordelia." Wesley's voice ground out, "Kindly remove your fingernails from inside my arm."

"Sorry." She squeaked, somewhat embarrassed. 

"Alannah?" Angel continued, taking an oral head count. "Alannah?"

"Alannah? Are you okay? Answer us please." Wesley added.

The electricity returned then, illuminating the empty space where Alannah had been not a minute before. She was gone. The two men exchanged a look and sprang into action, immediately heading for the door. Angel pulled his jacket over his head in order to avoid the harsh rays of the midday sun. The scream from below stopped them.

"You stupid bastard! Put me down! Angel…Ryne…" the plea was abruptly silenced. 

"Alannah." Without a word, Angel removed his coat and headed for the sewers.

"Angel." Cordelia began, preparing to stop him. Wesley reached out a hand to still her, and they stood watching him disappear below ground. 

"Let him go. It's his life she holds, not ours."And they waited.

~*~

January 2000

Keysmouth, Oregon

"We call this clan council to discuss many things. Death. New leadership. Our _iul _is dead. His position must be filled. We cannot continue in this way, disorganized and unruly. Order must be restored so that we may live as we should once more. As _fer_." Cian was the eldest member of the tribe, the only one with the power, save the _iul_, to call such a meeting. 

They had all gathered in the basement of Shannon McCormick, widowed mate of their leader. She sat with her daughter, Alannah, on chairs behind Cian. The pack assembled before them, numerous beings of all shapes and sizes, but bearing the same breed. Alannah's eye was drawn to the corner, where Ryne and his cronies stood and whispered amongst themselves. Her hatred for him sparked to life then, and grew as the events unfolded. 

"We shall do this the human way first. Very few choose to volunteer for this position despite the high respect it attracts." Cian's voice rose in challenge, "We ask for willing new leaders. Be there more than one, we shall settle it the night of the next full moon, with a _cath,_ as is tradition. Who amongst us believes themselves worthy of the _iul_?" 

"I do." 

Alannah snarled when she saw who had spoken. Ryne stepped forward from the dark recesses of the corner, standing proud and strong. The glint in his eyes was feral. 

"Sit down, boy. It is not your place. This is a man's duty." Cian chided him sternly, searching the pack for other willing _fers_. 

"It is my place as much as anyone's. I see no one else brave enough to undertake such a position. Therefore it should be rightfully mine if I pass the _triails_." He smirked, obviously satisfied with his argument.

"Is there no one else? A man?" Cian beseeched the crowd.

Alannah fumed at his flippant attitude toward her father's memory. This was not a joke. Her father had led them well, kept them fed and happy. Ryne wanted power, and nothing more. She was standing before she realized it.

"There's me." Defiant she stood while the little gasps and whispers began to circulate the room. 

"You, _caileag_? You are but a child too. This is no place for a woman." Her elder smiled at her gently, a warning tone behind kind eyes.

"There is no law stating a woman may not achieve such a position. I will not have my father's legacy turned into a mockery by a...a…_loireanach_." The term was a mockery and they knew it. 

"Hold your tongue_, cailin_," Ryne snarled at her, "There is no doubt here as to who would be bested in a fight."

"As _inion_, I have first rights to this. I advise you to stay away from power you do not respect nor understand, Ryne. You are but a..."

"Enough." 

The one speaking was instantly recognizable. Both Ryne and Alannah lowered their heads in submission. Liadan, the pack wise woman, hobbled into view from the back of the room. All watched in silence as she approached the clan daughter and laid a gnarled hand upon her shoulder.

"My _inion_, do not fight so. This is not your place. You have your destiny elsewhere. It will come to you in time. Now is not this time. Your battle has yet to be fought, but it is a great one. The duty you will serve shall save one, and in turn will save us all. Do not despair. Let this anger go." She felt something being pressed into her hand. With a kiss to her brow Liadan retreated, returning to her place in the back of the room. 

Alannah stood, fists clenched in anger, tears of defeat trickling down her cheeks. This could not be happening. Her hesitance was not lost on her mother.

"Dear one," Shannon pulled her daughter into an embrace and whispered into her ear, "Fear not. Ryne will not pass the _triails_. He is strong on the outside, but weak on the inside. A true leader must have both strengths to succeed. Besides, have you given no notice to who is absent today?"

Alannah's eyes searched the crowd until she came upon an empty space. "Tiarnan."

Tiarnan was her father's youngest brother, strong and confident. He was away on pack business for a week, searching for a new location for their pack to dwell in. When he returned, he would no doubt challenge the foolish Ryne for the title. And soon, they would move. Their lives would begin again, and tragedy would be left behind. Their leader would travel with them, to be buried near the place of their new inhabitance, where he could watch over them all. 

"Soon, we will leave here and the painful memories it reminds us of. We will journey forth to meet our new lives, and you will journey with us to meet your destiny. I am sure of it." Shannon stroked her daughter's hair and led her from the room. 

Only then did she think about the object still pressed into her palm. A gift from Liadan. Her fingers uncurled and she paused, holding the object on a chain up to the light. A puzzled frown crossed her pretty face, but she placed it around her neck anyway. 

Glancing in the mirror on the way upstairs, she noted how prettily the light reflected on the golden cross at her throat. 

~*~

She gasped, eyes flying open as she shot up from the concrete floor. Alannah's hands flew to the hollow of her throat, searching for the piece that once had resided there. Nothing. It was gone. 

"Oh god. I remember that. Liadan gave it to me the night before we left. I used to wear it all the time.'

Her thoughts slowed as she took in her surroundings. Lovely ones they were at that. Judging from the dampness and the rather offensive smell, it was probably some abandoned warehouse by the beach. Really original. 

"Hey, I'll go kidnap someone and drag them to the most clichéd location in the history of b-rated mystery flicks," she mocked aloud, wandering the length of her enclosure. "Loser." 

Stopping when she reached the other end of the building, Alannah placed both hands upon the wall and sighed. Ryne was nowhere to be seen, and her little 'wander-the-empty-warehouse-in-search-of-a-way-out' routine was going absolutely nowhere. The temptation to tear something apart literally made her hands itch. But level-headedness was key. She was smarter than he was by a few hundred IQ points, and besides…

"No." The itching in her palms was quickly spreading up her arms and throughout her body. A sudden spasm made her double over and fall to the floor, in equal combinations of pain and pleasure. Raising a slightly hairy forearm, the time on her wristwatch glowed merrily in front of her. 10:35. She desperately curled into a ball, willing her bones to stop shifting, willing the change from occurring. Her body wasn't listening to her. It continued to twist and reshape into the true form of her people. For the first time in her life, she couldn't stop the change. For the first time in her life, the change was horrible.

"It shouldn't be this hard…to stop it…" she choked out, throwing an arm out in front of her in search of help from the empty air. 

The _fer_ could revert from one form to another whenever they pleased, so long as some form of the moon was out. Her kind didn't have to change, save for the night of the full moon, which was still a good week away. So why was she finding it so hard to stop? Were her hateful emotions really running that deep? Yes, it had to be that. She hoped that was the reason. Strong emotion often contributed to the change, especially when it was directed toward one of her own.

Still, she released an anguished cry of frustration as the wolf form took her, knowing that her new friends may be in danger. In this form, there was little she could do about it. The _fer_ were not mindless, but they were still animals. Exalted, to be sure, but lacking the rationale and tolerance attributed to humans. One last thought echoed about her head before she finally gave in. 'I will not fail you, Liadan.'

Ryne entered the warehouse mere minutes later, playing air guitar. He paused outside the door where Alannah was prisoner, listening to the snarling and growling from within. He found himself hard pressed not to act on his rising desire. Despite the urge to leave, Ryne allowed himself to lean against the door and listen to the sounds she made.

Her constant rejections never failed to stir the feral hatred deep within him, but that didn't matter now. The time for niceties was over. Once his duty to the firm was completed, Alannah would be his. They'd promised him that much. The door bucked suddenly, causing him to stumble backward a step.

'Oh yeah, she's pissed. I can't wait to see the look on her face when she finds out destiny is a load of crap. Well, for her, anyway.'

The door rattled loudly once more, wiping the satisfied expression from his face. He stood still as something slammed into the door over and over again, gnashing its teeth and growling dangerously. The door held fast but Alannah never gave up, did she? Ryne allowed the self-satisfied smirk to return to his face as he strolled down the hallway with his hands shoved into his pockets. Before he disappeared around the corner, he let his voice carry to the beast still pounding away.

"Destiny's a bitch, isn't it?"

~*~

"I couldn't find her."

Cordelia and Wesley looked up from their respective pairs of clasped hands in surprise at the person speaking. Angel strode forcefully into the room, stopping only to rake an irritated hand through his unruly hair.

"I went to nearly every snitch in town. Not even Frankie the Pig had anything useful to tell me after I finished tossing him around a few times. This Ryne kid really covered his tracks."

"Or someone covered them for him." Wesley interposed, suddenly interested in the new angle. "Wolfram and Hart?"

Angel gave a slight nod in reply, obviously deep in thought. "The kid doesn't seem bright enough to be doing this alone. I saw him tailing us all the way to the apartment earlier. I never expected him to…"

"Okay, so we know the who, what, and when," Cordelia affirmed aloud, cutting off any outward feelings of self-flagellation on the vampire's part, "But that still leaves the where and the why."

"I'm still not sure about the why, but I bet I know where to find out the where." Angel swept down the hall as he spoke, leaving them alone.

"Okay, did you design that sentence specifically to confuse, or did we just get lucky?"

"Never mind Cordelia," Wesley told her, starting slightly as Angel reappeared and tossed a set of keys in his direction.

"You're driving. Let's go."

Wesley and Angel started out, and, after a moment's pause, Cordelia spun on her heel and followed. "Riiiiight."

~*~

Shannon McCormick was making dinner when the doorbell rang.Vegetable soup simmered on the stove, and saltine crackers lay unopened on the counter beside her. She sighed once, hating to leave a creation in progress, before moving to answer it, wiping her hands on a nearby dishtowel as she went. A look through the peephole revealed three very morose-looking strangers on her front porch. The late time of night made her especially cautious, even though she was quite certain handling trouble, should it arise, would not be a problem. She was only home, rather than out hunting with the pack, out of slight worry for her daughter, who hadn't returned home all day.

"Hello?" she questioned through the sliding lock on her door.

"Mrs. McCormick?" the man on the left queried, reaching into his front pocket.

Shannon visibly tensed, only to relax again as he removed a plain-looking business card which he in turn held up to the crack in the doorway. It looked like some sort of…well, some sort of something. 'Angel Investigations', it said simply. The man, apparently satisfied, returned the card to his pocket and straightened his glasses. 

"We need to speak with you if we may." Glasses guy obviously thought the piece of cardboard had impressed her. 

As it was, Shannon was looking for the first good reason to slam the door in their faces. Something wasn't right here; she could feel it. The one who had spoken was tall, slim, and decidedly British. He carried himself with caution cleverly disguised as distinguish. The girl next to him was also tall and thin, with a lovely frame of dark brown curls. She exuded confidence and sophisticate, but she detected a note of self-doubt hidden amongst all the bravado. Satisfied thus far, Mrs. McCormick shifted her gaze to the last of the trio. Half-hidden from the porch light, his features were difficult to make out. He was handsome, that much she could tell. He also radiated power and…

"Vampire." The accusing growl left her lips almost before she realized it. Instinctive animosity raised her hackles immediately as the word caused the being in question to flinch visibly. 

_Fer_ such as herself wanted nothing to do with the other creatures they shared the night with, vampires least of all. Vampires fed on humans, _fer_ did not. She could not count the number of times one of their kind had drained members of her clan still in human form. The acts were abhorred and dishonorable, and in turn made vampires yet another enemy. How dare one show such gall as to show up on the doorstep of her home. 

Angel knew the risk he'd taken in coming here, but such a dire situation called for less than polite measures. His arm shot out even before the door began to close. 

"Angel!" he ignored Cordelia's reprimanding tone and continued to hold the door open. 

It didn't even register that no one was fighting to shut the door until Alannah's mother reappeared bearing a large wooden cross. The woman held her weapon of choice steady, shoving the offending instrument out the door and into his face. Angel drew back with a snarl, releasing his hold on the door. 

"Be gone with you, demon," she hissed at him, coolly eyeing his unpleasant reaction to the holy symbol, "We want none of your kind here."

"Mrs. McCormick," Wesley pleaded on his partner's behalf, "We mean you no harm, but there is a matter of dire emergency that we wish to discuss with you. If you'd only be so kind as to…"

The slam of the door in their faces and the soft whoosh of air that accompanied it were his only responses. Wesley nodded his head slightly in temporary defeat and backed away from the home. Cordelia remained standing beside Angel, who stared unblinking at the entrance to the home. She turned to look at him, briefly entertaining the thought that he was trying to bore holes in the door with his eyes. Laying a tentative hand on his arm, she offered up,

"Hey, that went well."

~*~

"Like I said, everything went fine." Ryne paced outside of the warehouse, clutching the cell phone to his ear. "She's locked away, and no one followed me. I'm sure of it."

He listened for a moment as the voice on the other end replied. "Yeah. No problem. That guy Angel didn't know what hit him. It was beautiful. I snuck her out from right under his nose. They'll never be able to find her."

The glee in his voice and on his face faded as the person spoke into the telephone. "Don't worry. They won't find us. Everything's under control. I promise. Now when do I get my reward?"

He was forced to hold the piece of plastic away from his ear at the response he was getting. This time, his tone was shakier. "Look…okay. No...no problem. I'll tell her all the stuff you told me, and then I can have her to play with…right?" 

The coldness in his voice was overshadowed by a slight glimmer of hope, which was not lost on his telephone companion. Lindsay slowly rotated in his chair until he faced the bright lights of Los Angeles. "Right."

As the lawyer hung up the phone, he pressed a call button near the end of his desk. Seconds later, a guard appeared looking apprehensive. "Ye…yes sir?"

"Send someone to eliminate the boy. Make sure it looks like an accident." The guard hesitated a moment before taking the piece of paper Lindsay held out for him. "The address is there. Do it now."

The man nodded once before scurrying out the door. Lindsay watched him go, lifting his hands behind his head and reclining slightly. "This has been a really good day."

~*~

It was fascinating, really. I mean, who _wouldn't_ want to stand around, late at night in a strange neighborhood, staring at a big piece of wood? Cordelia Chase had endured more than her share of exciting moments, so she knew from experience that this was really….lame. Mrs. McCormick slammed the door in their faces a good five minutes ago, yet the three of them were still on her front porch. Pretty soon the woman would begin to think they were stalking her or something. Not the best way to attract business.

"Um…Angel? That staring contest you're having with the door is riveting, really, but are we through here? I think it won. If we don't leave soon it may start to gloat. And besides, some of us actually get cold when standing outdoors in the frigid near-dawn weather."

"Hmm?" Beyond his name, the vampire hadn't caught much of Cordelia's sarcasm-laced monologue.

"Leaving. Now." She reiterated slowly, enunciating each word as if to pound them into his skull.

"We can't just leave. Her daughter's in danger, and she has a right to know. She may be the only one able to find her." Angel's senses seemed to have finally returned to him. He moved toward the door with only a slight glance backward for approval.

Cordelia swiftly moved to intercept him. "Whoa there, Trigger. Has the fact that your last meeting ended with her shoving an enormous cross in your face slipped your mind? Somehow I doubt she's willing to talk to you…er, us."

"Cordelia may be right, Angel. We can't afford to waste time trying to explain things to the woman." Wesley stepped forward to back up Cordelia, "And, judging from her reaction to you, we don't know if she'd believe us even if we did." 

"She wouldn't," came a voice from the darkness, "But I do."

All three turned and waited expectantly. Soon the night parted and a boy, barely a teenager, emerged. He approached the trio hesitantly, never once meeting their gaze. 

"My name is Phelan. Alannah is my cousin."

"Wow. Someone likes to make with the dramatic entrances." Cordelia's offhand comment earned her a soft elbow to the stomach from Wesley. "Ow! Wesley!"

The boy was obviously uncomfortable, though something in his stance said that he was trying his damndest to hide it. He shuffled his feet and ducked his head slightly at the silence that followed, almost as if he were afraid of being attacked for the interruption.

"Do you know where your cousin is?" Wesley prodded when the child offered no more information. A simple nod confirmed the fact. 

"Where is she?" Angel stepped forward as he made the request, bringing himself within inches of Phelan.

He reacted as if he'd been slapped; searching for a handhold as he backpedaled a few steps. Angel winced, silently berating himself for his involuntary intimidation. Once a safe distance had been restored, the boy dug around in the pockets of his cargo jeans until one of his hands emerged triumphant, clutching a crumpled piece of paper. Silently he held it out to the vampire, never getting closer than was necessary.

Angel examined the scrap of paper intently for a moment. "Are you sure this is where they are?"

"They think I don't pay attention, that I'm some stupid kid who just likes to tag along. I'm not stupid. I've got eyes and ears, and I use them. You should hear the things they say in front of me, just because they think I'm too much of a wimp to say anything about it. Wonder what they'd think if they knew what I just did." Phelan stopped his little ramble and his eyes widened, realizing just exactly what "they" would think if they found out what he'd just done.

Fear returned to his face, washing away his temporary sense of pride. Before he turned and ran, he tossed out one last thought. "That's where he took her. I'm sure of it. And I'd also suggest that you leave now. My kind don't take kindly to vampires, and if one of the elders were to sense you…"

Wesley remained rooted where he was, watching the boy vanish with his warning into the night. Almost to himself, he murmured "Why do I find that this meeting was a bit too convenient?"

"Probably because it was." Angel replied, neither acknowledging that they had spoken to one another.

Cordelia glanced between her two companions for a moment as they silently contemplated something she obviously had missed. Blinking once, she walked over and took the paper from Angel. "An abandoned warehouse? Could this guy have _less_ imagination?"

~*~ 

January 2000

Keysmouth, Oregon

"Don't wander too far, dear. The _cath _will be upon us short, and tradition demands that we be there." Alannah barely heard her mother as she stepped from the back porch of their home.

The woods were calling her for one last run. Tomorrow, they would leave this place, their home for the last four years. Los Angeles. Tiarnan had returned with news of large hunting grounds and great hopes of living unnoticed for years to come. So they were going. To some strange city with bright lights and loud noise, a far cry from what she was accustomed to. How could she be expected to live, to thrive, without the trees and the grass and the feeling of wind on her back as she ran through the forest?

This was a bad idea, something inside of her felt it deeply. Alannah hazarded a glance down at her necklace. The ornate cross glittered back at her happily, oblivious to the cloudy thoughts in her head. Her conversation with Liadan came back to her clearly. 

'This is not your place. You have your destiny elsewhere.'

What kind of destiny could one possible find amongst masses and masses of people, bent only on fulfilling their own needs and surviving, not matter what the cost? Sure, she was taking a lot from stereotypes, but rational thought wasn't on the agenda tonight. When her pack arrived in the city of angels, it would be under a new _iul_. One that wasn't her father. They would replace him tonight, and then they would forget. Forget all that he had done for them and all that he had stood for. He would be nothing more than a memory…

"No!" the vehement denial spilled from her subconscious. It couldn't happen this way…it shouldn't be this simple…

"Oh, come now. I was expecting a better welcome than that."

Alannah's gaze hardened as she felt Ryne slinking up from behind, invading her personal space. This was exactly what she didn't need right now. 

"Leave me be, Ryne." She warned, back still turned.

Not put off in the least, he continued his invasion, circling her completely before backing off a bit in order to face her. "I just came out to make sure you were going to be there tonight, Alannah. It'll be quite the show."

"I'll rather enjoy watching Tiarnan beat you half to death, I must admit. It's always good to see justice done."

He snarled a warning in response. It was so low even her sensitive ears had a problem detecting it, but it was there. She'd struck a nerve. Good. 

"I wouldn't be so sure, _cailin,_" he growled darkly, eyes locking with hers as he stepped forward, "Things can change in the blink of an eye, and when I defeat Tiarnan things will change between us."

He further closed the gap between him, so much so that he was very nearly breathing down her neck as he spoke again, "Have you forgotten that the _iul _gets to choose his mate from amongst the entire pack? I'll take great delight in breaking you and claiming you as my own." Ryne paused mid-threat, inhaling deeply, "Mmmm. You smell delicious when you're pissed off, you know that?"

"Down fido. I'd hate to have to explain to your mommy how I accidentally 'fixed' her little boy," she said through clenched teeth.

Ryne's only response was a sardonic grin. "I'd love to see you try."

Her short bark of laughter broke the silence that followed his challenge. "Please! Don't work those pathetic clichés on me, Ryne. We all know that when this is all over, it is you who will be limping off into the woods, tail between his legs. And it is I who will take the most pleasure in it. Your challenge for this position is a disgrace. If my father were here, he'd never stand for it…"

"You forget, Alannah." His voice had returned to his original calmness, "That is why we are all here. Because your father is not. Your father is *dead*."

Before the last syllable left his mouth, Ryne was on the floor, clutching the side of his face. Alannah stared down at him murderously, allowing him to process what had just occurred. Her hand, still clenched in a claw-like imitation, fell to her side. The smile would not keep itself from her lips as she watched him remove a disbelieving hand from his face, revealing three deep claw gauges that ran from his earlobe to his lips.

"Bitch." He spat blood at her while ambling to his feet. 

"You could only dream of being one-tenth the man my father was." Her voice was all but dripping with venom, "You are a mockery, _loireanach_. I will die before I allow you to possess anything that was once his."

Ryne began to retreat down the porch steps, dripping blood as he went. "Before this is over, not only will I have his position…I'll have his daughter as well. Two for the price of one. I almost feel…cheap."

He disappeared down the path with a smile a moment later, leaving Alannah staring down at her fingertips, and the blood that resided there. Seconds later, she allowed the change to take her and disappeared into the underbrush of the forest behind her home.

~*~

There was blood. Smell was the first of her senses to return. She stirred and rolled over, trying to identify the source with her eyes closed. The stiffness in her lower back made itself known then, and her eyes opened and winced in pain. There, on her hands. 

Alannah examined the small bloody holes her fingernails had left in the soft flesh of her palms. 'Note to self: clenched fists during a change, not a good idea.' After flexing her fingers a few times experimentally, she judged the damage to be minimal and allowed herself a glance about her. Nothing had changed from the day before. Same dark, dank odor and concrete, windowless walls. 'Martha Stewart would run away in fear of this place.'

In the two seconds it took to admire the décor, she'd also noticed something else. "Aw, crap."

Why was it that she seemed to be waking up naked in strange places lately?There was nothing to cover herself with, that she already knew. So, she resigned herself to curling up into a ball and waiting for Ryne to return, hopefully with clothing. A few minutes later her…patience was rewarded. 'Think of the devil…'

The sounds of a very chipper person approached the door to her cell. The off-key singing alone was enough to make her sick. Alannah clutched her knees to her chest a little tighter, waiting for his entrance. "Rollercoaster…of lo-o-o-ve…"

She decided to risk exposure in order to cover her ears. "Is that any way to treat your kidnapper?" Her gaze was on his feet, watching him shuffle across the floor until he stood before her. "I think you could be a bit nicer, don't you? Especially since I brought you these."

Khaki pants and a tank top were tossed vaguely in her direction. He mad no move to turn around, barely suppressing the urge to grin lewdly at her. A warning glare did nothing to budge him; it seemed a more active bit of prodding was necessary. 

"Turn around." It wasn't a request; it was an order. When he refused to comply, the coldness in her voice hardened into anger, "Are you deaf, _buachaillín_? Don't make me warn you again."

"Tsk, tsk. Such harshness. We're pack family, Alannah. We share everything." This time, he didn't bother to deny the fact that his eyes were wandering hungrily over every inch of her that he could see. 

Her demeanor seemed to change suddenly while his gaze devoured her. Clutching the fabric to her chest, she leaned forward slightly, "Hmm…you know, you're right. As a matter of fact, I think there _is _something I'd like to share with you."

Ryne could not hide the flare of desire as he continued to gape at her. He was waiting patiently for her follow-through. "What's that?"

"Me." Alannah's left foot shot out and made sickening contact with his kneecap. She watched her kidnapper howl in pain and drop to the floor. He continued to roll on the floor as she sought out her provided clothing and dressed herself. "You know Ryne," she commented thoughtfully, pulling the tank top over her head, "Whenever we meet up, you seem to spend an awful lot of time on the floor."

He bared his teeth in response, though the gesture was more out of pain than anger. Chuckling softly, she couldn't resist bending over and looking him in the eye, "Was it good for you?"

Ryne grunted at her, not able to pull himself from the floor. Apparently, satisfied, she turned for the door, more than ready to escape from the warehouse that had been holding her captive. Unfortunately, he had other plans.

She'd underestimated him. Just because he couldn't stand didn't mean he couldn't catch her. As she stepped away from his body, one of his hands reached out and clutched her ankle, sending her half-tumbling to join him on the floor. Alannah attempted to use his move against him, but before she could get off a solid kick, he was upon her.

Painstakingly he dragged himself along until he was straddling her waist. He pinned her arms firmly above her head and stared at her triumphantly. Ryne's face was inches from her own, permitting her to feel his sour breath upon her own face. Alannah stared at him stonily, refusing to be intimidated. For some reason, that only made him smile.

"It wasn't good for me…at first. But I'd say things are looking up."

"Get off of me you pathetic excuse for a man. You haven't got the balls to do anything to me. I never thought I'd ever be this cliché, but you know you'll never get away with this..."

His laughter interrupted her cold accusations. "I always thought you were pretty stupid Alannah, but I didn't realize you were thick as well. I already have gotten away with it. Their plan has long since been set in motion. I'm just here to keep a little monkey wrench out of their works, so-to-speak. And when they're done with you and your vampire, the little monkey," he whispered, gripping her wrists a little tighter, "will be all mine. This little display of wit-less has pretty much proven that all you're good for is a really good screw."

She returned his words in kind by spitting in his face. "Bastard," she breathed, struggling to comprehend the full meaning behind his words. 

"Hey Alannah," he added, leaning forward and whispering in her ear, "How are you gonna fulfill that little destiny of yours when you're dead?"

Her eyes widened visibly at that. "Destiny transcends death. It transcends everything. You can't stop what's meant to be."

"That's where you're wrong, _caileag_. There is something that destiny runs and hides from. It can't be stopped, and it grows stronger every single day."

~*~

January 2000

Los Angeles, California

Fear. This city wallowed in it. It permeated every corner, invaded every home and restaurant and office building. It was horrible. But it wouldn't go away…and it was driving her nuts.

Alannah stood on a street corner in the middle of some nameless intersection and sighed. 'My new home,' she confirmed, watching some homeless guy digging through trash cans across the street. 'Lovely.'

Los Angeles was lonely. Lonely and lost and scared. Just like her. 'Well, except for the scared part. I don't get scared.' Nighttime had only just fallen, and her pack had wandered off somewhere to hunt, but her heart wasn't in it. Though they lived on the outskirts in the hills, it just wasn't the same. Everything smelled different. The grass wasn't as fresh, and the prey weren't as hearty. 

It was useless, she knew, missing something you knew you'd never get back, but who cared? She came out tonight to wallow in some self-pity, and that's exactly what she was doing. Reason and truth be damned. 'The only good thing that'd come out of this was Tiarnan.'

The _cath _the night before was over quickly. Ryne managed to draw first blood, but in the end he was easily bested by her uncle. The loser disappeared into the woods and hadn't been heard from since. Her mother said no one was sure if Ryne had even come with them. For all she knew, he was still licking his wounds in the Keysmouth woods. 

~*~

The night before

Keysmouth, Oregon

The pack left without him. They couldn't afford to wait, because their traveling had to be made at night. Plus, most weren't inclined to wait for him. He was the loser, and the rest were off to their new home under the leadership of a new _iul_. So there he stood in Alannah McCormick's old living room, gazing blankly at the wall. 

The evidence of his anger was apparent in the large pieces of broken china littering the floor, where they'd scattered after they hit the wall. He'd been so close. First blood was his, but in the end Tiarnan had triumphed. Not only did he lose the power, but he lost…

"I want HER!" he raged, hurling another plate at the wall, yet taking only the smallest satisfaction as it burst into pieces. "I want..her."

She was so beautiful. His glorious, blue-tressed obsession. Ryne had never felt this way before about anyone. Affection was alien to him. He'd spent most of his life being cool and aloof. Real men didn't show emotion, they took what they wanted when they wanted. But if that were true, why didn't he have her?

The jingling of the phone halted the travel of yet another plate. Setting it down on the counter, he moved to the far wall and picked up the receiver. "Hello?"

"Ah, Ryne. We knew you'd be here. Such a pity about tonight. Losing is always tough on a man."

"Who the hell is this?" 

"My, aren't we in a hurry. I should think you'd want to be more polite to someone who was about to offer you your fondest wish."

A flicker of interest crossed his face as he listened, yet remained silent.

"Good. You're listening. You seem like a man with goals. Ryne Connelly. We like that. You also seem to be in a bit of a dilemma. It seems we share the same problem."

"Oh yeah," he interrupted, not about to make any part of this easy, "And what's that?"

"Alannah McCormick." 

Immediately Ryne stood up straighter, becoming slightly defensive "What do you want with her?"

"I think the better question is…what do YOU want with her, Ryne? You like her, don't you? You want the power that would come from being her mate. Well, she's a very important element in a plan that my people are trying to put a stop to. You help us get her out of the way, we help you…get in her way, so to speak. That's the way it works in LA."

Ryne mulled that over for a moment. Alannah. His. "What do I have to do?"

"It all has to do with destiny. A little bit of destiny, and a whole lot of fear…"

~*~

A part of Alannah desperately hoped that Shannon was right. Ryne had disturbed her more than she would admit the night before. He'd always been into rebelling, going against the grain and running wild. He was even mean at times, and sometimes downright cruel. But never had she seen his predatory nature manifest itself in such a sexual way. It was all she could do to keep him off her that night. 

Unconsciously, Alannah wrapped her coat tighter around her shoulders and stared out into the cold. Her breath was visible in the air, temporarily providing a distraction from her troubling thoughts. 'I think I've had enough soul searching for one night.'

The long trek back home was uneventful, save for some bedraggled wino offering to buy her a drink. The new home she shared with her mother was modest, but it suited them well. The backyard faced the wilderness, which suited their purpose well. Tonight, however, she entered through the front door, calling into the house as she hung up her coat, "Mom? You back yet?"

Her answer was a muffled thump that came from from the kitchen. "Mom?"

She had no problems seeing in the dark, so the lights remained off as she cautiously approached the kitchen. The noise came again and she paused, trying to identify the sound. Alannah moved deliberately as the kitchen came into view, searching its depths for the intruder. The kitchen was empty as far as she could tell. 

Finally she shrugged, ready to dismiss it as nothing until she heard it again, this time from behind her. 'Okay, this is getting slightly too horror-movie-ish for me. Time for the dumb blonde to turn on the lights.'

"Oh joy, it's you."

Ryne grinned wolfishly from his perch on the dining room table. "Aren't you happy to see me, _cailin_?"

"Oh, I'm just thrilled. You mean you can't tell?" 

He noted her defensive stance; feet and shoulders squared, fists clenched, before sliding off the table and into a chair. "I just stopped by for a quick visit. You know, to let the fam know I was okay."

"Oh, I'm sure they'll be interested in knowing that you disappeared in order to bask in your loserdom. We were kind of hoping you'd been eaten or shot or something."

"Always so defensive. Please, don't stop, 'cause it's really turning me on." 

Alannah narrowed her eyes at him, contemplating the comment and his sudden arrival. "Speaking of which, Don Juan, what is it with you and your sudden desire to be my stalker? Still trying to prove how much of a man you're not?"

"Let's just say…I like you." He replied, toeing the carpet with his boot, "Well, not all of you. Certain parts. Anyway, I had some…business to take care of. But now that's done, so I thought I'd come over and see you."

"And now you have. We had a nice little chat, and now I think it's time for you to go. Feel free not to stop by ever again."

Ryne's gaze never left her as he walked to the door and left without so much as a word. His odd behavior had her puzzled, but there was no way in hell she was going to waste valuable time pondering the inner workings of a horny teenager. She turned away in silent revulsion, walking back into the kitchen in hopes of scrounging up a bit of dinner. 

Five minutes later, she plopped a hot pocket onto her plate and carried it into the dining room with a glass of milk. As she set her bowl down, something caught her eye. Frowning, Alannah lifted her plate and stared at two plain-looking business cards. 

One read "W&H" in plain black lettering, the other was adorned with a picture of…an angel? On a gut-feeling, she snatched up the cards and ran to the front door. 

"Ryne?" she called out into the blackness. "Ryne!"

No one answered.

(To Be Continued…)

~*~


End file.
